


Just this Once

by XxmerthurcatxX



Series: Gallavich Fix It Fics [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Drabble, Episode 3x07, Fix It, How It Should Have Gone, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mickey is honest about it feelings, Rated T for language, Shameless, Sort Of, Terry is an asshole, because Mickey, my boys confronting their feelings, reference to abuse, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17445095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxmerthurcatxX/pseuds/XxmerthurcatxX
Summary: The aftermath of what goes down in 3x06. This is how I wanted the scene where Ian goes to check on Mickey is 3x07 to go, but of course it didn't go that way because Mickey is allergic to his feelings. Just this once I wanted Mickey to get emotional and not be ashamed.





	Just this Once

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fairly new to the Gallavich ship, but I love them and I think they're one of the best relationships, gay or otherwise, ever written on television. I just want my boys to be happy and for the love of all that is good and holy to not be ashamed for having feelings.

“Would you at least look at me?!” Ian yelled, trying hard to hold back tears. 

Mickey fired the gun again. His bottom lip was trembling, but he kept his eyes resolutely trained on his target. He couldn’t look at Ian. Not after what had happened. Not after what his dad had done. What his dad had made him do. 

“Fine,” Ian said, hating the way his voice caught as he pushed away from the wall to leave. 

_ Fuck _ .  _ He wasn’t going to leave just like that was he _ ?  _ Oh shit, he was _ . 

Mickey was panicking. Ian was leaving. He was walking away and all Mickey had to do was open his mouth, say something, anything and he would stay. And God he wanted him to stay. Come on Milkovich, open your goddamn mouth!

“I can’t...” he started, his voice cracking embarrassingly. Mickey squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, willing them not to fucking fall. 

“Mickey?” Ian asked, voice soft. 

Mickey took a few deep breaths. 

“I can’t,” he tried again, words caught in his throat. What was he even trying to say? _ I can’t look at you _ ?  _ I can’t face what I let my piece of shit father do to you _ ?  _ To both of us _ ?  _ I can’t tell you what you want to hear because I’m too much of a fucking pussy _ ?

The gun slipped from Mickey’s hand, clattering loudly on the cement floor. He pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes, knees practically giving out as he sunk to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he spat, scrubbing impatiently at the tears that were falling freely now. What would his father think if he saw him crying like a bitch? He wouldn’t say anything. He’d pick up the gun Mickey had dropped and pistol whip his without a second thought. A quiet sniffle behind him made him pause his own pity party, his head whipping around to see Ian, arms wrapped around himself and eyes trained on the ground. His shoulders were shaking with quiet sobs. 

Mickey moved like he was possessed, getting to his feet and dragging Ian into a hug. The taller boy froze for a moment, not used to Mickey initiating any sort of physical contact before he locked his arms around him, crushing him to his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Ian cried into Mickey’s neck. 

Mickey shook his head, pressing closer to Ian and hiding his face in his chest. God this felt good. He couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, he was held like this. Hell he never let anyone close enough to do it. But somehow, this obnoxiously persistent ginger kid had wormed his way under Mickey’s skin and he was utterly powerless to fight it anymore. 

“The hell are you sorry for, Firecrotch? It ain’t your fault,” Mickey grunted when he got his voice back. 

Ian pulled back enough to look at Mickey’s face. He wanted to kiss him until neither of them could breathe, but he didn’t want to push it. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything. Your face. The way you looked at me Mick. And I just sat there.”

“My old man had a gun pointed at you, what were you supposed to do?” Mickey asked, rubbing the back of Ian’s neck with his thumb in an attempt to sooth him. 

“God, Mickey, stop being so understanding. It was fucked up. What he did to you. And I should have done something. I should have done-

Mickey couldn’t take it anymore. He used his grip on Ian’s neck to yank the taller boy down to his level, pressing his lips firmly against his. It was meant to be gentle, to pacify the still shaking redhead, but when was anything between them ever gentle. Ian dug a hand in Mickey’s hair, tilting his head to the side and giving as good as he got. By the time they pulled away Mickey was half hard in his jeans, but he ignored it in favor of knocking his forehead against Ian’s. 

“Fuck you, is what you should have done,” he murmured, hoping Ian understood. 

Ian nodded, thumb brushing across Mickey’s cheekbone. An affectionate gesture that at any other time Mickey would have flinched away from and told Ian to quit being such a faggot. But not now. Just this once, Mickey was letting Ian take what he needed. Because maybe he needed it a little bit to. 

“I love you,” Ian said quietly. 

Mickey’s eyes widened. He kind of already knew that. Hell he’d exploited the fact for his own gain on more than one occasion. But it was the first time Ian had said it outloud and fuck the kid looked nervous, turning his puppy dog eyes on Mickey like he was waiting for a punch in the gut. 

“Y-you don’t have to say it back. I just...thought you should know,” Ian said quickly, words coming out a little garbled. 

Mickey’s mouth twitched at the corners but he pushed back the smile that threatened to spread across his face at the kids hasty attempt to make light of the words he’d said. The words that were now on the tip of Mickey’s tongue. But he’d already given Ian more than he thought he could today and even if he felt them too, he wasn’t ready to let them out. 

Instead he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Ian’s forehead, then another to his temple, first one eyelid and then the other. He tracked kisses all over his face, until Ian was positively shuddering against him. Finally he kissed him squarely on the lips, keeping it chaste and gentle in a way the first one hadn’t been. When he pulled away, Mickey curled his fingers around the collar of Ian’s shirt, gripping so tight his knuckles were turning white, willing him to understand.

From the grin that broke out across the kids face, he figured he got it. 


End file.
